Bittersweet and Defective
by ForeverMATT
Summary: Mello's birthday was more of a tragedy than anything else, so it stands to reason that it would go uncelebrated. Imagine his surprise when his lackeys surprise him with a present...


**Title:** Bittersweet and Defective

**Summary:** Mello's birthday was more of a tragedy than anything else, so it stands to reason that it would go uncelebrated. Imagine his surprise when his lackeys surprise him with a present...

**Disclaimer:** I own my brain and not much else. I don't own DN or anything referenced.

**Author's Note:** Warning, this is badly written, but... eh, at least it's written. The DN fandom doesn't have nearly enough fics to read anyways.

…

* * *

December 13th was different for everyone at the warehouse. Some men cowered in corners, fearing for their lives; others went about their tasks, trying to keep busy and useful. Then there was the select few that were privileged to know the significance of the date.

Mello's birthday.

Now, Mello wasn't just anybody. He wasn't some snot-nosed twat who cried if their phone's battery died or if mommy and daddy said 'no.'

Mello didn't have a mommy or daddy. Mello didn't give a shit about his phone's battery because it was a lackey's job to keep it charged- and, should said lackey fail at such a simple task, he'd receive a lethal dose of lead.

Mello was smart, conniving, resourceful. Only seventeen and already the head of the mafia.

He trusted no one. He cared for little more than power and competence (and chocolate).

He didn't celebrate his date of birth – no one did; it just wasn't done. So he was undoubtedly surprised when Kal – a rat-faced idiot with twitching fingers and a snout full of coke, bumbled up to him with good tidings of "Happy Birthday, Boss! Roddy-"

"Rod," the blonde tyrant corrected.

_'Really, Rod Ross (Dwight Gordon) was supposed to be a brawny meathead- He was meant to be feared. And yet, scrawny little Kal Snydar (Jack Neylon) was affectionately calling him Roddy. Tch.'_

"Roddy," Kal continued listlessly, "and I got you a present. It took a lot longer than we'd hoped, but we got it, and I'm certain you'll find it to your liking. And-"

Rod's deep voice cut through. "And if not, you can shoot Kal."

Kal paled at the very idea but said not a word, hunching his back and positioning his arms close like a T-rex.

Mello was in no mood for shenanigans, but he was low on chocolate-_ Perhaps they'd picked up his preferred brand?_ So, with that thought and a heavy sigh, he got up and followed the strange duo to a back room that was rarely used.

Mello prepared for a hooker. Mello prepared for chocolate. Mello prepared for an early shipment of stolen goods. But Mello was not prepared for what met his eyes upon entering.

In a chair, facing away from the doorway, was a person... with a nostalgically striped shirt and wine-colored hair. Those features and a slumped over silhouette were all he could see in the dim lighting... and that's all he needed to confirm the identity of this person.

"M-My present is...-" For the first time in years, Mello was stuttering, speechless.

Kal snickered and snorted, skipping in place like an overgrown child and ringing his hands together. "You like?" He asked rhetorically.

Mello nodded slowly, eyes wide and a strained smile tugging at his lips. (He hadn't smiled earnestly since...- before the explosion that wrecked his face).

Rod crossed his arms and chucked deeply. "We found your childhood friend, Mello. He's here, and he's all yours."

Mello couldn't help the overwhelming joy that ripped through his system like a knife through construction paper. A gasp of disbelief and joy fell from his lungs as he approached the redhead and coaxed himself to say the name that had died on his lips but lived on in his heart. _"Matt..."_

When the redhead failed to respond, Mello's expression fell into one of confusion. He closed the distance and rounded him, stopping in front and gritting his teeth in anger when he could see the redhead's face. "Get out," Mello suddenly barked at his two lackeys. His eyes turned on them dangerously and he screamed: "GET THE FUCK OUT!"

When they left and the door closed behind them, the blonde knelt down, eyes closing in despair. He clasped the redhead's hand between his own and reluctantly opened his eyes to get a better look.

"Mail?" he whispered. "What happened to you?"

The redhead was warm and had a pulse, but the eyes that were once vibrant and green were now dull and lifeless.

"C'mon, Mail, say something... Dammit."

But the redhead said nothing.


End file.
